


Unstoppable force

by CheshireCaine



Category: Justice League (2017)
Genre: Actual Dad Bruce Wayne, Gen, Inspired by a Trailer, POV Bruce, POV Third Person Omniscient, Socially Inept Barry Allen, Teamwork, Training, it kind of dips between the two, of course Alfred mentally chastises Bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCaine/pseuds/CheshireCaine
Summary: “It's really cool you guys seem ready to do battle and stuff, but I've never done battle. I've just pushed some people and run away!”In which Bruce teaches Barry how to punch.[Inspired by the most recent JL trailer.]





	Unstoppable force

**Author's Note:**

> Barry's lines in the trailer were awesome and super inspiring. The "other fic" I was working on that pushed me to work on Applied Force. Yes, I may be addicted to the physics-themed titles. I kinda hate that I couldn't think of a better one for this; it feels lazy to have two consecutive fics include the word "force".
> 
> Not very edited (because the plane was exhausting and I didn't want my siblings reading over shoulder). I decided I'd post anyway to commemorate the 15th: Ben Affleck's birthday. And technically, if I wasn't on a plane and I was in San Francisco this would have been on time earlier. Instead, I celebrated the end of the 15th in all time zones by finally watching _Good Will Hunting_ (still loved Ben Affleck).
> 
> Doesn't matter cos this'll be irrelevant once the film comes out.  
> . . . Wait, the 16th (today)'s Jason's birthday! . . . Looks like I have work to do.

_“It's really cool you guys seem ready to do battle and stuff, but I've never done battle. I've just pushed some people and run away!”_

A breath, then, “What matters is you’re here now.” He needed to word this better (easily imagining Alfred’s biting criticism and Diana’s lack of sympathy). “I sought out warriors. But warriors aren’t the only thing needed to win a war.” He clapped an arm to the younger man’s shoulder. “Fighting head-on isn’t your specialty—you’re a runner. And that’s what we need you for.”

The Flash bit his lip, eyes flicking back and forth between Batman in front of him and the debris to his left. It didn’t matter how insistently Batman spoke; he wasn’t convinced.

He was easy to read, Bruce thought. I’ll have to make him work on that. Next.

“Make a fist. No, not like that.” Bruce slapped his grapple gun to his belt and grabbed Barry’s hand firmly, rotating it and forcing him to open it. “Again. Thumb out and over your fingers.” He stepped back. “Show me a punch.”

It was lucky Barry could move so fast, or his hesitation would have been a lot more awkward.

Barry jabbed at the air, slow enough for Bruce to see, and telling him that Barry was a lot more resistant to the idea of punching something than he should be. It was a worrying sign at this point in his career.

Both annoyed and relieved that Luthor’s files weren’t comprehensive enough to have told him so ahead of time, Bruce beckoned Barry over and the twitchy speedster complied.

“Make a fist.”

Bruce’s voice was lent an extra layer of authority by the voice modulator. And this time, Barry followed his order immediately.

“Show me how you’d make a punch. _Slowly_.”

Barry slowly stretched his arm in the direction of Bruce’s chin.

“First,” Bruce said, straightening Barry’s wrist. “Keep that straight, or you’ll break it.”

Barry jerkily nodded at him and Bruce tapped Barry on the fingers to ground him.

“Aim to hit with the knuckles of your first two fingers. Tip your hand down a bit to make them the first body parts to make contact but keep your wrist straight.”

“-wrist straight. Right. Got it.”

“You’re better off aiming for the torso then the face,” he said, emphasising his words by holding Barry’s gloved hand near his chest.

Barry’s eyes dashed between his hand in Bruce’s grip and Bruce’s face; uncertain of what to look at.

Bruce relieved him of the choice and released Barry, looking him in the eye as he carried on talking.

“With your speed, someone dodging is less of a problem, but you can deal more damage and have more options lower down. Throat. Clavicle”—He pointed at those points on his own body—“Pretty much anywhere for the chest and ribs. Jab the solar plexus and you’re golden—a fist won’t do you any good at getting that far in.”

Bruce paused to let Barry process—this time, at least, Barry remembered to look up.

“Right. Right. ‘In’?”

“When you punch, you’re not trying for a light tap on the skin. You’re want to hit _in_. Aim for a couple inches past the surface. Your arm should be able to fully extend and make a full hit before you bring it back.”

“Couple inches. Full in. Right.”

“Like this.”  Bruce made a fist with his right hand. “Not too tight either. You want to punch a person, not cut off your circulation. Tight, not too tight.” He held up his other hand. “Straight wrist. Remember the knuckles.” He punched his hand, forcing it back. “All of that, but aim for?”

Mimicking Bruce in murmurs, Barry took a beat to realise the question wasn’t rhetorical. “The chest! Aim for the chest. Why the- why the chest again?”

“Because punching badly will break a thumb or a wrist. Aim for the face and hit the jaw, you’ll break your entire hand.”

Barry nodded.

“Show me.”

“Fist with the thumb over. Wrist straight. Hit with the knuckles. Wrist straight.” He moved his fist in slow motion toward Bruce. “Chest.” He held his fist in front of the bat stretching across Bruce’s suit. Then quickly ducked backwards. “Except, like, a couple inches in.”

“Right. Now hit me.”

Barry’s eyes bulged. “What.”

“Punch me. Right here.” Bruce tapped himself on the bat symbol.

Still Barry’s eyes bulged.

Bruce sighed silently. “Try my hand first. No powers. Just hit my hand.”

Squinting at Bruce suspiciously, Barry readied himself.

“Now.”

He didn’t wait, and struck Bruce’s hand immediately following the command. (Though, Bruce realised it was equally possible that his scatter-brain didn’t detract from his speed and was more a symptom of Barry’s equally quick thinking—meaning, a jerk reaction in Bruce’s mind could be even hours of hesitation in Barry’s).

“Remember to follow through and punch with the full length of your arm. And always pull your fist back when you’re done. Don’t, and—” He demonstrated by grabbing Barry’s hand, twisting him around and pulling it up his back.

“Ow, ow, ow.”

“You leave yourself open,” he said, punctuating his words by releasing Barry.

“Try again. Two inches, remember. This time aim here.” He rapped on the bat with his fist.

Barry tried.

“Too soft. Don’t worry about hurting me. I’ve taken punches from men with a lot more muscle and training.”

“You sure? Because it doesn’t really matter as much about size. I’ve seen guys killed by one—” He conceded. “— _Lucky_ punch from men half their size. Can’t I just find something else to practice on?  Like a—”

Bruce knew better than to wait for a pause. “If you can’t hit me, you can’t hit anybody.”

Barry didn’t bother with any more complaining; just sprung at Bruce and landed a punch on his pec. He withdrew immediately, as told, but couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine. Barely winded,” said Bruce. “You just need to tap into some strength. Which is where your abilities come in handy. You telegraph your moves and your punches are weak”—Bruce ploughed on to stop Barry from fixating on the negative—“But with your speed, that’s not really an issue. If you’re fast and strategic, nobody will be able to read you. And, as you know from ‘pushing people away’, you can be as strong as you want if you use your speed. Drop some debris on the enemy, or ram them, and they’re out. ”

Barry’s face carried the expression of a man just slapped. Nothing relayed his disbelief better than the stretching silence as the speedster lost the ability to compose a sentence.

“The sooner you realise your potential, the sooner you can reach it.”

“. . . Holy crap.”

Reassured that the message had sunk in, Batman turned away. “Let’s get going.” He looked back at The Flash to remind him of their priorities. “The others need us.”

A nod, then the two vanished in a streak of light, sparks dashing over the ground where they’d just been standing.

**Author's Note:**

> Almost thought about making this a more shippy fic, except it's more a drabble and that would take more plotting. So, there are just subtle hints.
> 
> If I continued it, I might just make it into a series about Bruce training Barry—maybe even with a different topic time each time (like the punching). <—That was interesting to research. And it was also super interesting to get in the head of Ezra Miller's Flash. Somehow he brings a new layer to Barry's social awkwardness that I really like exploring. The kind of Barry that we see when he first meets Batman (New 52 Justice League: War) and geeks out completely when complimented.


End file.
